Sleepy Head
by sleepyaugustus
Summary: Nightmares come far too easily in the labyrinth, and Annabeth can't stand to watch what they do to Percy :: Prompt fill for pjowriters


**Sleepy Head**

**PROMPT: "**_AU where Percy calles Annabeth Beth. And Annabeth likes it very much but don't want him to know that._**"**

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Her heart clenched as she watched him.

Percy squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, desperately clawing at the knapsack he used for a pillow. A whimper escaped his parted lips.

Annabeth winced. Nightmares weren't strangers to her either; sympathy was an ache in her chest as she watched him squirm. "Percy," she whispered, leaning forward from her spot against the brick wall where she was keeping watch. They'd been wandering the narrow corridors of the labyrinth for what felt like years—and very well _could_ have been, considering the time differences from above. It hadn't been long from when they decided to stop and rest after outrunning two Laistygonians that had chased them for _hours_.

The little fire they'd built up was slowly dwindling, left to only a few rusty embers glowing on the dark stone of the floor. In the little light, Percy's face was darker, his features defined. He looked older, and for a moment she let herself wonder if this was what he would look like when he came to be of prophecy age. Was _this_ the Percy she would know when he was fighting for his life in the name of an age old fortune?

She banished the thought with a shake of her head. Now was not the time to start getting into _those_ thoughts again.

There hadn't been any threats for her to acknowledge just yet, and the minutes were passing slowly. Or at least they had been until Percy started shifting in his sleep. It had never been easy for her to watch him struggle. The crinkle of his brow made him look distressed. His puckered forehead worried her.

"Percy," she called again, infinitesimally louder. She didn't want to wake him yet, but she also didn't want to watch him suffer any longer either. "Wake up, Seaweed Brain."

He remained still, the skin of his nose wrinkling just the slightest, and his tiny freckles danced with the action. The dim light lit traces of fire in his dark hair, setting the tips orange. Sighing, Annabeth pushed up from the ground and crawled over to her friend. Just as she planted herself on the ground next to him, he turned on his side, shoulders caving inward as he whimpered again. Her lungs were heavy with pity—she _hated_ to see him like this.

"No," he muttered, thrashing again. His hands moved around as if searching; the moves were desperate and erratic, skittering along the stone floor seeking some form of comfort in his pain. She knew he was tired, and that was enough to have her hesitate before reaching over to shake his shoulders. It was why she took first watch after all—Percy hadn't slept in what had to be considered too long for a healthy fourteen year old boy.

But he was scared. She could see it in his stiff shoulders and scrunched features. She didn't want him to deal with the struggles of being a demigod in his sleep—it didn't seem fair that way. It was supposed to be an _escape_ from their chaotic lives, finding old memories in dreams and imagining a simpler kind of life. They deserved a little peace and quiet.

He then let out a shout and she cracked.

"Hey!" She wrapped her hands around his writhing wrists, pinning them down to keep them from smacking her in the face. "Percy, wake up!"

His eyes shot open, bloodshot with dilated pupils, the green color of his irises that she could never pin point exactly was almost undetectable. His heavy breaths moved his chest up and down roughly and he looked like he had just run the New York City Marathon.

After a few seconds of jerking around in a confused stupor, he seemed to have caught his bearings. His body sagged and he shut his eyes briefly. "Gods," he sighed, voice raspy.

Letting go of his hands, she set them down softly by his sides. She wanted to ask him what he'd been dreaming about; what he had _seen_ that made him writhe the way he did. But the expression on his face held her back. He was already beat, and the emotional turmoil didn't ease the situation. Gently pushing his shoulders to the ground, she hushed his heavy breathing. "Hey, it's okay," she soothed, feeling her chest tighten again at the sight of his tired expression. "You can go back to sleep."

His eyes followed her as she pulled his jacket from the knapsack and handed it over. When he didn't move, she rolled her eyes and tried to keep the fondness in them to a minimum, pulling it over his torso like a blanket. "You're okay now, Sleepy Head. Rest. I'm still keeping watch."

The soft look on his face was almost too much – such a difference from what she had witnessed only minutes ago as he was tortured in his dreams. He turned away from her, laying on his shoulder and sighing unintelligible words into the scratchy fabric of the bag.

"What was that?" she asked, scooting forward and watching his shoulders move with now steady breaths. His dark eyelashes fell against the tops of his cheekbones, building spindly little shadows across his face.

He grunted quietly. "Thanks, 'Beth."

For some reason, her cheeks burned and a tickled feeling expanded in her chest. She tried for a nod, even if she knew he couldn't see her. It was only a few minutes later that she could hear his quiet snores whisper softly in the dry air once again, relaxed and safe from nightmares. She slumped in relief.

As she took up her spot against the cold stone wall again, only a little disoriented _really_, Percy's words ran through her head. Again and again until the sounds were close to meaningless. Never in her life would she admit how he made her heart race with such a simple gesture.

Annabeth didn't use nicknames. But for Percy, she supposed she could make an exception.

Just this once.

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**A/N: Originally posted on December 10th, 2014 to the pjowriters page on tumblr! Send in prompts and remind my friends how awesome they are after you read their stuff!**


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